


Your Blood Beats An Empty Tune

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, after MSG ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7845976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s easy with Josh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Blood Beats An Empty Tune

**Author's Note:**

> Summer's over, kiddies. Time to get back to work.

It’s easy. With Josh.

Easy to get lost in the brushes of fingertips, calloused hands gripping Tyler’s hips firmly, steadying his shaking knees. It’s easy to get lost in the flicks of silver tongue against the shell of his ear, tempting praises whispered so so softly, but so so loudly when they cut through the thrumming of Tyler’s heartbeat.

Oh, but Tyler’s heartbeat just grows stronger under the fluorescent lights and between the thick concrete walls. Bodies swarm around them and Tyler feels small under Josh’s sweeping gaze, adrenaline pumping, causing the air to swirl pink and rough in front of Tyler’s face and soft blue mint- refreshing, burning- through his lungs.

He thinks he hears _‘shower,’_ once or twice- swears it. Words fighting his heartbeat again and the sudden sound of his own footsteps, sharp and quick. His hand must’ve found it’s way to Josh’s again (it always does) because he’s being pulled like taffy, sticky and sweet down the long hallways and into a tiled room.

He thinks he hears another voice, maybe one in his head, telling him to _‘fucking strip,’_ before he realizes it’s always _just Josh_ telling him these things. Telling him what to do. He likes it. Especially with this haze of intoxication- a beautiful high, a celebration of life and it’s _noises-_ he’s drifting out to sea, there’s salt in his nostrils- and lips. Lips on his neck and his shoulders, rubbery pink, staining his bare skin. He loves it. He loves it, he _swears._

It’s easy with Josh.

It’s easy to unwind, to not be such a bundle of fucking nerves all the time. To pretend he’s not thinking, to pretend the only voice in his head is the one crawling in through his ears. The voice telling him how _‘fucking beautiful he looks.’_ It’s especially easy to fall against the tiled wall, the thick hot spray of water falling down his shoulders still stained with that invisible love. Tyler lets his forehead fall forward against the wall, the column of his throat dripping black. Tyler lets himself _go._

Tyler lets himself be touched, Josh’s hands roaming low across the curve of his hips and stomach, Josh’s fingers inching everywhere and anywhere they can. _‘Touch yourself,’_ Tyler hears then, and he does. Turning his head to bite at the meat of the arm held above his head. This does nothing to muffle the quiet sounds echoing around the walls but neither of them would want it any other way.

Tyler swears- out loud this time- when Josh brings a hand down against his ass. It’s good, so good Tyler wants him to do it again and again. Until he’s a part of the puddle on the floor, swirling down the drain, all forgotten, all bliss.

It’s a worthwhile exchange when Josh knocks Tyler’s hand away. Tyler’s brain rattles in his skull untethered, and he wonders how he could ever be anywhere but here. Anywhere but under these hands, and under this skin. It’s peaceful, the way Josh twists his wrist, stroking Tyler’s cock until his stomach muscles contract, pulsing inward and tugging at his heart in the process. It hasn’t stopped beating, luckily. He would notice.

It’s incredibly easy, Tyler finds, to completely surrender. As if he hadn’t already. To be fucked, dirty and raw against the wall. He appreciates the vulgarity of it. It makes him feel alive to clench his fists, and let his jaw drop open. The short gasps and drawn out moans ground him in a way only performing has before. He loves begging for it. Begging to be torn apart at the seams, and Josh complies, flawlessly, every time.

 _‘Scream for me,’_ Tyler hears, wet and warm against his ear again, and he can. He can scream until his lungs give out, but then there’d be nothing left.

 _‘I love you,’_ Tyler gasps instead, before feeling his head being tugged back by his hair and a hand- Josh’s, he can’t let himself forget- wrapping solid around his cock again.

Every wave of the ocean he’d gotten lost in hits Tyler full force then, as he spills over Josh’s fist (he remembers). The salt flooding his senses clears, mind suddenly full of _clear_. Like the calm after an anticipated storm. Like the comfortable silence of lovers.

“I love you.” Josh replies, _out loud_ for the first time all night.

“Yeah?” Tyler asks, dragging reality smudged fingers through his wet hair.

“Yeah.” Josh replies, throwing a life preserver out from the surf, and pulling Tyler into his chest.


End file.
